


Where the Story Ends

by TheSixthRedux (LostInTheCityofAngels)



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Addiction, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Drinking, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fox Mulder Angst, Fox Mulder's Brain Disease, Heavy Angst, Heroin, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Cancer, Needles, Neurological Disorders, Paranoia, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s07e11 Closure, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Smoking, The story becomes canon after s7e11, Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28512156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostInTheCityofAngels/pseuds/TheSixthRedux
Summary: Post episode s07e11 "Closure" - "I'm free," Mulder whispered faintly as he looked up to the sky. Freedom from what though?  He found her. Everything in his life led up to now. He was at the top of the hill, whether it be literal or not, that was not important. The only way to go from there was down.After losing the last of his family, and learning he has a terminal illness, Mulder starts a downward spiral of self-destructive behavior and drug use, because what does he have left to lose? Surely he's just going to live the rest of his life doing whatever he wants. Scully starts noticing Mulder's off behavior. Can she save him before it's too late?
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Kudos: 19





	1. Trying Not to Lose My Head

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place post-closure... but also has major spoilers for seasons 1-9, so stop reading this already if you haven't finished the series.
> 
> Some information from my understanding is during Biogenesis through The Sixth Extinction: Amor Fati, Mulder contracted a terminal brain disease. Later, after his abudction when he is returned, he also had a brain tumor, which made his health even worse.
> 
> Now, since I start post closure and go full canon, I go off the track. When you read, you'll find out. Not everything will start to be accurate in the show's timeline sense, but I slightly alter the details for my story.
> 
> That being said, don't read this story if these topics will trigger you:
> 
> Drug abuse (heroin, needles, syringes) - mentions of side effects and consequences
> 
> Heavy Drinking
> 
> Depression and other related mental health conditions
> 
> Cancer, terminal illnesses etc.
> 
> Self destructive behaviors/self-harm
> 
> dying
> 
> The rest of the warnings can be found in additional tags
> 
> Alright. That's a lot, but I don't want anyone throwing their computer when reading this, and I know I'm not the best writer, so bear with me.
> 
> Thanks.

Beginning of story:

"I'm free," Mulder whispered faintly as he looked up to the sky. Freedom from what though? He found her. Everything in his life led up to now. He was at the top of the hill, whether it be literal or not, that was not important. The only way to go from there was down.

He kept his pain a secret. Why would he share it or have a reason to? Why does anyone like venting about their life problems? He felt like a burden to do that. That's why the heroin was a miracle. He could be numb and not think. Getting lost in his head was a scary place. Ever since Scully found him, laying on the table after his brain surgery, every minute on his mind ran through every scenario that could've changed.

What if Scully found him ten minutes later? Would he have died from surgery complications? What if Mulder's psychopath father didn't try to take portions of his son's cranial tissue to save himself? What if Scully had never escaped from Africa? What if Mulder died? What if he died of a bad brain hemorrhage before Kritschgau came? What if they injected the wrong dosage of phenytoin.

Mulder had a talk with Scully once about fate. He liked to think he was meant to live, because his search for the truth wasn't over. Scully thought everything was alright for Mulder. Recently, he had gone to the doctor's office. Maybe it was that news that depressed him. He wasn't going to tell Scully just yet. He wasn't ready and he for sure didn't know when he would.

Just because his forehead healed nicely, didn't mean he was alright internally. Scully out of all people should've known, but that's alright because he knew she wouldn't function if she knew what happened to him.

"That doesn't look normal," Mulder said looking at the brain scans of his. "What's all this red?"

"Mr. Mulder, you still have some activity in parts of your brain which almost no one has. You told me about your recent hospitalization. What was that for?"

"I got exposed to a virus," he replied. "We didn't know exactly what it was." No. It was an alien artifact, but of course he didn't want to get sent to a psych ward. He'd been there too many times than a person should have.

"Mr. Mulder, I need to inform you, this is a very rare brain disease. Almost close to brain cancer, but also a neurological disease. We ran numerous tests, and we don't have an official diagnosis. It is terminal."

What the fuck. So he was going to die after all? "How long?" he asked quietly.

"With possible treatment... around 12-16 months and-"

"I'll tell you this now, I'm not going to go through anything. I refuse."

"Mr. Mulder, I am a doctor, and I am giving you the best medical option, but I do have to listen to your wishes, but I am telling you to rethink."

"No," Mulder said. "I'll have a follow up later, see my progress."

"Ok..." the doctor said sighing. "I wish you well."

Mulder left, and that was the beginning of the end of him falling apart.

Mulder didn't leave his room for a week. Scully was worried, but she knew it was best to leave him alone. Or was it? Skinner told Mulder he should probably see the FBI psychologist, as he wanted to remind him everyday, but of course Mulder refused. Instead, he told Mulder to take a couple weeks off.

Mulder's depression hit him harder than ever before. The first day he arrived back at his apartment, he trashed the place, and ripped out every wire or lamp, before covering possible surveillance holes with black tape. He laughed to himself. They must think you're a paranoid schizophrenic. Once he was satisfied, he decided to settle in on the couch.  
He only got up to go to the bathroom, or grab a small snack. Then he would go back, snuggle under his blanket and watch his videos of the TV. Even that didn't interest him anymore. He repeated this the entire week, not even showering. His mind was the only place to go to, but it was also the most dangerous. Inside his head, he could think for hours. These negative thoughts were hard to shake off. He just couldn't and nothing could help, except... maybe something could.

Mulder showered for the first time in a week. He needed to look somewhat not like a homeless man so he also shaved. He still only wore his jeans and a sweater to keep him warm, before grabbing his wallet and heading out to the store. He looked at the clock before exiting. 4:00 a.m. The 24 hour gas station should be open. Mulder walked for several minutes before making his way to the mart. He looked up at the security camera in the corner, and wondered if they were watching his every move.

"Can I help you find something?" The man asked. He was giving Mulder a look. I must've been staring too long at the corner of cameras.

Mulder grabbed a lighter and of cigarettes, but not the Morley brand. Walking to the back, he grabbed a few bottles of Jack Daniels, and a six pack of beer. He barely spent his money he made. He felt like he could give himself a treat.

Walking to the checkout, he placed the items down.

"Rough night?" The man said, not looking up at Mulder, as if he was used to people like this.

"I'm spooky," he replied. "Everyone I love dies. I'm sure my own workplace was behind all of it." He gave a sad chuckle.

"That sucks, man." After Mulder payed, he grabbed his wrist and made eye contact with Mulder. "Are you looking for heroin? I got some." He kept his voice a low whisper.

"Back off. I'm a federal agent. I can arrest you."

"I've heard that one before. I guess you'll be missing out." He let go of Mulder's wrist. Mulder turned away, walking out with all his goodies, but somehow his feet found himself walking right back in nodding his head and flashing his badge. "I'll make a deal."

Mulder got back to the safety of his apartment, and almost tripped over a knocked over lamp, forgetting all the lights were not circuited anymore. Stumbling his way through the pitch darkness, he made his way to the couch, setting everything on the table. He turned on the tv, giving him a enough light. He opened one of the beers and lit a cigarette. He finally understood why people led this life, and couldn't leave.

After finishing the entire bottle, his eyes wandered to the heroin that could be injected along with the syringe. The act was going to be painful, but one small prick would be worth the sensation. Then he realized, a mixture between alcohol and heroin could kill him. He didn't want to die. He was smart enough to know what mixtures could kill him. So he instead, waited a few more days before switching only to heroin. Mulder picked up the syringe, right away sticking it into his arm. Instantly, he slowly felt the high kick in. All his fears disappeared, and for once he did not think of the things that caused his pain, his heartbreak. He laid back and closed his eyes, relaxing.

Mulder had a week left before having to return to work. He didn't want to think about that. For now, he was free.


	2. I've Never Been This Scared Before

When it was time to come to the office, for some reason Mulder felt as if it was like returning to work after a vacation that ended the day before. A feeling of having to be back to "normal" like nothing ever happened.

Putting on his suit, and lazily putting on his tie, he looked into the mirror. He didn't look like an addict yet, but he was getting close. His skin wasn't superb, and he looked like he had a common cold or something. He didn't look like a street junkie, but he didn't look like a top notch DOJ worker either.

Besides Cancer Man, no one probably ever looked through Mulder's basement so he could easily hide some heroin in there. Sneaking a couple syringes in his pocket, Mulder made his way to the basement. Scully hadn't arrived yet, so he searched around for an ideal hiding spot. Either he could hide it in plain sight, or totally obscure them. He decided on storing it on a very high shelf behind a box, that Scully could definitely not reach.

As big as his craving was, he needed to control himself at least for the morning. He had an excuse to be miserable anyway.

Sitting down at his desk, he rested his head on his arms and thought. He thought about his future, what happens now? His own government was the main concern. The real reason they used to lock up "paranoid schizophrenics" during the cold war, is because they knew what really was going on, but everyone just looked at them as if they needed to belong in an insane asylum. Mulder wondered what everyone thought of him.

He wondered what everyone thought after Skinner had to restrain him and send him to the hospital. The bug was damn real. It wasn't any hallucination. Even if he was right, the embarrassment and damage was done. He groaned just thinking of his past. He moved his hand through his hair roughly, messing it up, but he didn't care. His aggression was getting to him.

He heard footsteps coming close, so he quickly sat up, and brushed his hair with his hands over. He looked around for a mirror, but he hoped he looked presentable enough. The FBI code on how you have to appear was very strict.

His favorite red-head entered in, and he smiled, although he felt himself realizing it wasn't a genuine smile.  
"Mulder. How have you been feeling?"

"Fine."

Scully gave him one of those looks. Of course he wasn't fine. He was far from fine, but he was never going to admit that. Not even on his deathbed.  
"Nice hairdo," Scully replied sarcastically, trying to make light of everything. "Is this a new thing? This fringe. The last time your hair was like that, you were in a hotel with me, wearing your robe."

"And you remember that?" Mulder ruffled his hair, hoping it looked somewhat better. By the look from Scully, he probably looked like he rolled out of bed.  
"Well, currently you just have some paperwork to finish."

"Gee, Skinner still is the sadist I thought he was."

"Mulder, it's not much. Want to go monster hunting later?" She asked to cheer him up.

"I just want to be left alone," he said.

Scully frowned. She wanted him to see the bureau psychologist but knew he never would. It would probably make things worse. Obviously he had an excuse to not be acting like himself. First he confirmed his sister died, then his mother died by suicide, and way earlier he lost his father, and then found out his biological father was the smoking man.

"C'mon. This isn't like you," she said. "You are always nagging me to go solve these bizarre cases! There's a few right now we could investigate!"  
Mulder didn't care. He was dying, and no one knew but some random doctor in a clinic. So be it, what would he do in his last 6 months, if even? The heroin sure as well was shortening his lifespan even more. He needed a cure. Maybe if fate planned everything already, his instinct would do the right thing. His gut told him he should go with Scully, but at that moment, he didn't even want to get out of his seat.

"It had only been an hour, but he crave the drug. If he could just hold off until lunch... but then he remembered nicotine. It's another addiction he almost fell into, that one time he nearly died, but nicotine killed off the viruses in his lungs. He spent two weeks in the hospital and almost fell dependent to the drug. Scully made him throw away the pack, but Mulder happened to still have it in his drawer. He never threw it away.

Opening his drawer, he pulled out a cigarette and his lighter. After lighting it, he inhaled a lot of the smoke and coughed a bit.  
Scully instantly turned her head back towards him. In fact, she marched right over and grabbed it all from Mulder.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Smoking." Obviously.

"Mulder!" She was furious. She took the box and put it in her coat pocket, along with the lighter. "I'm going to dispose of these."

"Those are expensive," he said.

"What is going on-" she started to speak but stopped. It was futile to try to argue about this, especially with his current mental state.

"If you're up for it after lunch, there's a X-File. Otherwise, I'll be with the ME. Finish your paperwork and submit it to Skinner by noon." She walked off, not looking back.

"Sheesh," Mulder muttered. He sloppily filled out the paperwork, then made sure no one was looking. He pulled out the syringe he had and went to the basement bathroom, which no one used but him. He took of his coat and rolled up his left sleeve. His arm was already looking terrible, in fact he looked himself in the mirror again. He had already lost ten pounds just within the last month, but who cares. That wasn't a main concern. He was always wearing so many layers anyway, no one would notice.

Injecting the needle, the instant rush of euphoria came to him and he felt relieved. He had always been nervous approaching Skinner, but now this was a new experience. He had never felt this good before. Is this the truth? Was he just missing happiness in his life? Everything was so peaceful. Mulder carefully wrapped up the needle, and hid it at the bottom of the wastebasket, covered with lots of tissues and random wrappers.

Carrying the files, he made his way up to Skinner's office.

"Nice to have you back," his secretary said. "Go right in."

Mulder nodded, and walked right in. Skinner was already watching the door. "Agent Mulder. Have a seat."

Mulder sat down, placing the files on his desk. "Sir, I filled them out."

Skinner ignored the files, instead leaning in closer, keeping his voice at an almost low whisper. "Off the record. Mulder, it's good to have you back. Are you sure you're prepared to work again. Mentally?"

"Of course," he said. "I'm so happy, I feel like I'm floating on a cloud. In fact, I've got no worries anymore." He smiled.

Skinner looked at him dumbfounded. Was this the real Fox Mulder? "I'm glad to hear that..."

"Sir, if I may, I promised Scully I'd go monster hunting this afternoon. I need to get prepared." Mulder got up and walked right out the door.

He went back down to the basement, and turned off the fluorescent lights. He laid flat on his back and closed his eyes, and for once, he could relax, free or every pain or worry in the world. Scully wouldn't be back for a while.

Is this what it's like to be "normal?" Everyone should feel this happy 24/7? Well after forty years, he finally felt that. If only he had some heroin in his hands as a teen, then maybe he would would have forgotten the childhood trauma, but no. His eidetic memory had to make him remember every single detail.

His mind wandered again. Maybe he should take some ketamine too. Hell, he was an FBI agent! He could blackmail criminals! Life is too short to not be able to do the things one enjoys. If it was true, and he didn't have much time, then who cares if he lost his job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the story is still ongoing :)


	3. Tell You What I'll Do Instead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> clarification, the story title is a song by one of my favorite bands "The Fray" and each chapter title is a lyric from the song

He didn't know how long he was on the floor, but the effects were wearing out, as heroin initiated quickly, but the current high ended quickly. He never really researched the drug, but what he didn't know, is when withdrawal kicked in, it would make his life Hell, even more. The one brief moment of the high in the end did not make up for the awful feeling that would hit later.

"Mulder!" He heard Scully's concerned voice. She rushed over to him. By now, he felt fine again, but a bit nauseous. "Did you fall?" She was genuinely concerned.

"No," he replied. "I wanted to nap."

"Insomnia again?"

"Yeah..."

"Well the basement floor is not ideal. You scared me. Just laying still in the dark."

"Remind me to order a couch," he replied getting up. "What time is it?"

"1:00 p.m. did you have lunch?"

"Yes." No. Well technically yes... a shot of heroin.

"Alright, you choose the file."

Scully walked towards the drawer with the heroin and it seemed like she was going to reach for top, even though she wasn't. Mulder still wasn't sure so he quickly ran there. "Uh, Scully. Not in here," he said.

"Of course. You're always hiding something. What is it? Your videos? Oh Mulder. I've put up with you for 7 years, I think I can put up with you for many more decades."

Mulder's smile dropped. The first thing on his mind was that he wouldn't be there for many more decades, and that really upset him. Just a split second could change his mood. He didn't want to die. How would the world go on without him? Would they forget him? Ignore him? Geez, he needed more heroin. Stop thinking these thoughts. He rubbed his forehead before grabbing Scully's hand just for a couple seconds. He squeezed it ever so lightly, and then looked at the new X-Files.

Scully was trying hard not to kiss him right there. He actually showed his affection! She looked away to hide her face, as she was sure she was blushing hard.  
"Let's go search for some local dog attacks, that appear to be teleporting dogs."

"That's my Mulder," Scully said.

"I'll met you in the garage in five minutes. I'm going to the bathroom."

"See you," she said entering the elevator.

As soon as she left, Mulder went again, as now part of his "so-called" routine, and injected more heroin. This was his new life, and he had no problem getting rid of the pain. It sure did a damn better job than alcohol.

Again disposing of the needle, he made his way upstairs to go investigating with his favorite partner.

"You look happy," Scully said.

"I know! It's so great!" Mulder excitedly replied, although Scully wasn't happy. Something was definitely up. There's no way in a million years that Mulder would act this way, but again maybe he was just going through some manic depressive phase.

Driving in the car to a nearby farm, Mulder couldn't help but randomly scoff out loud. Teleporting dogs? That was ridiculous. Grow up, Mulder. You're a forty-year-old man.

Mulder never chuckled randomly.

"Mulder, is everything alright?"

"This is ridiculous," he said. He started bursting into full on laughter. "I must've taken too many drugs! Ha!" He turned to Scully, hoping to find an amused expression on her face, but instead he was met with worry.

"Mulder, I think you need more time off. Are you sick? I should ask Skinner. Look, your behavior is worrying me. I've been wanting to... take you to a doctor for a while."

Mulder frowned. "Scullyyyyyy! I'm fine! I've never been better! You think it's odd, I seem too 'normal'?"

"I do, Mulder! I really do!" She paused a moment, before asking, "You would never do drugs, would you?"

"Of course not!" Lie.

"Alright. Just checking. Let's turn back. I want a meeting with Skinner."

"Sure. Fine. Whatever."

"You're agreeing with me?"

"Who wouldn't agree with a beautiful woman."

"Wow, Mulder, I'm in shock. Thank you..."

"Anytime," he said. They drove back to the bureau, but as soon as Mulder got out of the car, he had a sudden urge to throw up, so he quickly ran to a corner and threw up. It was barely any since he didn't eat all day, but it was so unexpected.

"Mulder? Maybe you have a fever. Definitely take the day off. I'll drive you back now. Then I'll tell Skinner."

"Mmm. Okay."

Just then Agent Spender walked by them, giving a funny look.

"Clean that up, will you?" Mulder asked pointing to the ground. He smiled before getting in the car, and Scully driving him back.

"I'll walk you up," Scully said.

Suddenly, Mulder panicked. His apartment was definitely trashed, and he never cleaned anything up. His drugs were just sitting on the table in plain sight.   
"No... That's alright."

"Alright," she said, sounding a bit hurt. "I thought... you know... you just wanted to advance in our-"

"Oh! I do, Scully but just, not now. Later."

"That's the thing. How late is later?" Scully squeezed his hand then drove off.


	4. Lay My Body Down On The Floor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're from my instagram @ the_sixth_redux, yay! I love you

If anyone knew a lot about psychology, it was Mulder but he never applied that skill too much anymore. His profiling days were over, and sometimes he wondered if he missed those times. He had to give himself some credit as he was damn good when he worked in the VCU.

"Agent Mulder, you can't just move to the X-Files division! You're one of the best agents we have," he remembered his old AD telling him.

"Sir, this might help me finally find the truth. Endless days of profiling were not helping. Besides, as you said, "I'm worried for your mental state." Mulder had said, carrying his boxes and making his way to the basement. That was the start of his "spookiness."

Another week all to himself. To Mulder, that was either the greatest thing ever, or the worst. As badly as he wanted his work, the motivation was gone and the heroin addiction was getting out of hand. He used to think how it was physically possible for someone to get addicted so fast and now he understood. Somehow some chemical reaction was happening within his body and that's how the magic happened. Besides a couple more visits to his so-called 'dealer' now, Mulder didn't leave his apartment. Just like the last two weeks, he had now been in the habit for almost three weeks and it would be incredibly hard to break.

Mulder assumed no one would find out, and he did a damn good job at hiding it, or maybe that was only because he was alone in his room and only had been to work one day. He still had some beers in his fridge, but hadn't had them in a while because he didn't want to overdose. The mixture might kill him, or worse he would somehow survive and Scully would make him go through rehab or just totally give up on him. The FBI had a very strict drug policy, and either way, if someone found out, he'd be out of the bureau forever.

In the end, his thoughts all circled back to the same thought: he was going to die anyway. When people were asked what they would do if they didn't have much longer to live, maybe it was meet a famous person, watch a sunset from the top of a tower, or make everything right before the time comes.

For Mulder, he didn't really know what he wanted. He wanted more for Scully. He wanted Scully to be happy. That is what he wanted. He didn't want Scully to look back on their last times together and see him as a depressed, struggling addict. Maybe he did have his motivation after all: Scully.

He remembered the time he ran after her in the hallway, confessing his love for her, but the events that followed after were not memorable. He sometimes wondered how the hell he even survived what happened in the arctic. Maybe he died and this is all Hell.

Again, Mulder went to his doctor again for a checkup. Why he kept going?; he didn't know. He could just picture Scully looking through his medical records long after he was gone.

"That bad?" Mulder asked. "Even worse than last week?"

"Well Mr. Mulder, I told you it would decline and yes, it's getting worse. The sooner you start treatment-"

"No. Thanks anyway. I'll be back in a month."

"But Mr. Mulder, it's rapidly declining faster than anticipated. Have you been taking anything? This is just between us. I need to know."

"No." Liar.

"Mr. Mulder, I suspect you now have around four months."

Mulder wanted to cry, but he remembered a quote from somewhere that you can't break someone if they're already broken.

"I'll just live my life," Mulder replied before running out.

Dammit. As much as he wanted to tell Scully, he knew how much pain he went through when Scully was diagnosed with her cancer. He could barely hold on. He tried to be strong but wasn't. If Scully tried to be strong for him, he was sure her heart wouldn't handle it. He didn't like the feeling of pity too much. He had to be a man. He had to be strong. He always tried to be the stronger one, but in the end he realized he wasn't.

Oh c'mon, Mulder. You've just had too much heroin. Of course you aren't thinking straight! Tomorrow he had to return to work for the rest of the year. He had considered telling Skinner about his terminal brain disease, his neurological disease, possible cancer, hell who cares. That would put too much strain on Scully. He finally let the effects of the heroin take over him, despite the insomnia also threatening for that to not happen.

"Fox!" he heard a voice shouting at him. "Fox! I'm scared!"

All he could see was a little girl at the top of the stairs, his sister Samantha. She was staring down at him, and he only realized he was on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. He shot up and went to her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"What's wrong? Why are you scared?"

"You have to hide!"

"Why?" What was going in was very confusing to Mulder.

"Fox, you're hurt. Daddy is gonna hurt you again!"

"Huh?" Mulder grabbed his sister's hand and ran to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. He was bleeding severely from a gash in his forehead. It only occured to him, he was seeing his teen self.

"What happened, Samantha?" he asked looking to where he was holding her hand, but instead, a dark figure that was not distinguishable was gripping him. All of a sudden, he was frozen at the bottom of the stairs, only this time, his father was standing at the top of the stairs. The dark silhouette that neither looked like a human, animal or rather just some dark entity, had a smoke trail coming from within.

He was paralyzed again, wondering why he didn't hide and run when Samantha told him to.

"Will he remember any of this?" his father asked the dark silhouette.

"Probably not."

Mulder blinked, but each blink felt like ten seconds. For the split second he could open his eyes, it was like a frame in a movie. He had to use every ounce of energy he had to keep them open. The first time, he heard shouting and his father yelling at someone before pointing to Mulder.

When he opened them again, he saw his mother. She was visibly upset. She shoved his father, away screaming.

"He's just a kid, Bill!"

"Tina, he's a teenager! He was supposed to go instead of Samantha!"

"You would never have hit Samantha!" Bill stormed off as Mulder's mother ran to him.

"Fox, don't worry. We're getting a divorce. He'll be gone soon."

Mulder cried in her arms, and as his head rested over her shoulder, he saw the silhouette now, clearly the cancer man, shaking his head in disappointment.

"Mom?" Mulder asked, now able to talk, but as soon as he opened his eyes again, he was standing all alone in a dark room, and a bright light was getting brighter.

"Ah." Mulder awoke gasping for air. It took a minute for him to realize his dream he had. It was still 100% vivid in his brain. Was it a dream or a lost memory? He rubbed his face, only to realize he was either crying or covered in sweat. Probably both. He back hurt, and he realized he spent the whole night on the floor. Looking at the clock, he realized he had to be at work in thirty minutes. He would actually be returning to his routine again.

He had just spent three weeks out of it, an d all of a sudden, his bliss would be gone and he could get thrown back into the conspiracies and crazy cases. Time to be "normal." He should just forget his illness, his addiction, and maybe it could happen if Scully kept him distracted, but that wasn't going to happen. It's rare that someone always gets what they want without working, and certainly Mulder's plans were not achievable.

Standing again in front of the mirror like he did last week, he really did look like shit. As skinny as he started to look, he also felt like the whole weight of the world was on top of him. At least in the safety of his own apartment alone, no one could see the symptoms taking their effect, but now it was almost impossible to hide everything. Well, fuck it. I don't care anymore.

One last time before heading out, he rolled up his sleeve and noticed the several marks now. He was pretty sure his arm was damaged, or worse he probably fucked up his vein. But who cares?

His suit started to look a bit bigger than usual, but his shoulder pads on his suit looked ridiculous anyway so no one would notice. Mulder would always tease Scully about hers, and she would tease him about his. His face was the most concerning part. He always thought he was just average looking, but good enough for women to be attracted to him, but again maybe it was the uniform. Now, he didn't even know who he was staring at anymore.

He took a deep breath before driving to work. He and Scully had a meeting with Skinner, right away in the morning, and he was already running late. It only occurred to him as he was getting out of the car, that he realized he forgot the heroin.

"Fuck," he muttered. Too late. Maybe if he didn't have it right now, he could magically sweep these last three weeks under the carpet. Stupid Mulder. Of course addiction doesn't go away that fast! But he didn't have enough time to fix that anyway.

Getting into the building, he went right away to Skinner's office. His secretary looked at him with concern.

"What is it?" Mulder asked. "You look at me as if I've turned into a transvestite."

"Nothing. No, gosh. Agent Mulder, you still seem like you might be a little sick. That's all. I hope you've been feeling better. Skinner and Scully are already waiting. Go on in."

"Shoot. Am I late?" He asked her going to the door.

"Only seven minutes." Skinner's secretary looked back down again at her computer to avoid talking to Mulder anymore.

Mulder walked in, and they were already there in there usually spots.

"Good morning," he said, almost stumbling into the room. He took a seat by Scully and looked at her. She was giving him that same look as Skinner's secretary. Even Skinner was.

"Why does everyone give me that same look?! Unless I've turned into a Fox, I don't understand."

"Are you feeling better?"

"Happy as a clam."

"You look worse."

"Gee, thanks."

"No, I'm serious this time. I told you to rest. Instead, you look like you did the complete opposite."

"Mother, I listened to everything you said," Mulder said annoyed. "Now what's this meeting about?"

"You," Skinner replied. "Agent Mulder, I have thought about the past week, and if you feel like The X-Files are no longer for you, I can assign you back in the VCU."

"Mmm." Mulder just made a hesitant sound. Whatever. He leaned back nonchalantly, showing he really didn't care.

He was alerted back to reality when Skinner set down a file loudly. The sharp sound apparently snapped him back. "Mulder! I know you've been through a lot. More than I could ever know, but responsible adults don't act like this. Your partner is more concerned for you. It's not me! I've saved your ass numerous times I shouldn't have. Now, tell me if you're up to the job anymore."

The heroin was clouding his judgement, and usually Mulder would snap back, but his overly-happy state of mind had other plans. "Oh, whatever you want, sir."

"Really? So you'll go back to your normal X-files with Scully?"

"Is it ever normal?" He smiled.

"So that's a yes?"

"Y-E-S."

"You're dismissed."

Mulder got up and slowly walked out the door, Scully following close behind. Once she made sure no one was around, she placed her hand in his shoulder, turning him to face her.

"Mulder. I don't think you're alright."

"Am I ever?" He asked.

"No, I mean. I'm always concerned for you, but this time I'm genuinely concerned. I think-"

"Think I've lost my mind? Sorry. That happened 28 years ago."

"No. Look, I know you're not telling me something. I'm your partner. You said I'm the only one you trust. If that's true, then tell me."

"I wish I could," he said. "It has nothing to do with you. Just stop worrying." He reached for her hand, lifting it up and gave her kisses. "I love you, Scully."

Suddenly, the half the worry went away. Mulder assumed she had thought his odd behavior as a 'Mulder thing' or an odd way to get the courage to talk about his feelings.

"I love you too, Mulder," she said, but it didn't sound as romantic as he hoped. It sounded more like an exasperated sigh. Still holding hands, she looked up at him again. "You still look ill. I mean, your fever should've been gone by now. It's odd to have it longer than two weeks. I think you should see a doctor."

"No." He held onto her hand tighter. "Scully, please don't ruin this moment. I have you. What more do I need? Besides, you're my doctor."

"Mulder, my only patients are dead ones."

"Maybe I'll be next," he laughed at his own amusing humor.

"That's not funny! Mulder!"

"Well Scully, there was a case I wanted to check out. Now that I'm back to routine."

"And this is?"

"Well, I think it might take a few days. Something strange is happening near the crack shed."

"The what?"

"Where the junkies squat. Did you know three dead bodies have been removed there just within the past week."

"Well, overdoses aren't exactly x-file worthy..."

"But you see, Scully. I don't think it was an overdose. Everyone just assumed they were but I don't think anyone checked for any other injuries.

"So you want me to autopsy a body that had a confirmed cause of death as an overdose?"

"Yes. I have a hunch. I think it might be this mythical creature. It likes to claw its victims just on the higher calf, on the back of their leg. It can be overlooked, but I think it clawed right into the femoral artery, leaving a clean cut.

"I knew thought you knew anatomy," Scully replied. "But alright. Watch the medical examiner give me a weird look. Give me two hours."

"I'll stop by at the end," Mulder replied. "You know I get queasy over dead bodies."

Just as Scully left the door, she looked back at Mulder. "Take care of yourself."

"Yes, Mother."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still ongoing :) 
> 
> I think this'll be a short story, so roughly 20k - 40k words.


	5. To Forget What I've Done (Silhouette 'til the Good Lord Come)

"Trying not to lose my head  
But I have never been this scared before  
Tell you what I'll do instead,  
Lay my body down on the floor  
To forget what I've done,  
Silhouette til the good lord come"  
\- Where the Story Ends by The Fray

Scully just about finished up the autopsy and she called Mulder to come take a look. He was right. These victims didn't die from an overdose. They had been cut, somehow the blood cleaned and then heroin just happened to already be in their system.

"Ew," Mulder said giving quick glances at the body. "Is this..."

"Yes, Mulder. You were correct. I'll have the initial reports changed, and then we can go visit this 'squat.'

"That'll be dangerous. I think we should do an undercover stint."

"Mulder, that'll take too long. The last thing I need is you getting too deep into this case and end up an addict."

"I guess we'll have to get a warrant." Mulder secretly was pleased. Maybe he could just sneak some heroin from inside... but it was a risky move.

Later in the car, while driving in a quiet road, Mulder turned to Scully and said, "Why do you think people become addicts?"

"Well, it's not that hard to get addicted once the drug is in someone's system. You remember your near-nicotine addiction. Have you been staying away from cigarettes?"

"Yes," he lied. "Go on."

"Depending on the person, it can be harder to stop. If someone is taking it just for the pleasure and they already don't have pain, then maybe it's easier. The thing is, most people who take heroin love it because it gives them a sensation of being happy. Sometimes overly happy and it messes with pain receptors. Not even physical pain might be felt. It's very common in people with severe depression, anxiety, PTSD and more."

"Scully, do you think these people are weak?"

"Do I think that? Mulder, I'm surprised. You never want to hear about psychological opinions from me... Well, not really. But if someone overcomes the addiction, they're stronger."

"What if they knew the drug was killing them, and knew it was bad, but how would they stop?"

"The only way is to get themself help is reach out on their own, which is unlikely, or have someone help them, or the worst. Someone finds them almost dead and takes them to the hospital."

"Have you known anyone with a drug addiction?"

"No, luckily."

"Wait, we don't have a warrant," Mulder just realized. "I'll have to go in and pretend to be a junkie."

"Mulder, you're a clean-shaven FBI agent in a suit! Skinner would not approve anyway. I'm not allowing it."

"Okay, fine." Dammit. He wasn't thinking and he was starting to get irritable. He felt sick and miserable, but of course he hid it from Scully.

They made their way to the apartment, and knocked on the door, standing on each side, guns drawn for precaution.  
"Who is it?"

"Federal Bureau of Investigation."

They heard shuffling in the room, but there was no way to escape. "You don't have a warrant!"

"We're not here for the drugs! Just to talk about the deaths. We know it wasn't an overdose." They heard the click of a lock and the door opened, revealing several people inside all staring at them.

"We don't have drugs."

"We didn't ask that. Just tell us about the attacks."

"What attacks?"

"I think you know," Mulder said pushing his way in the door, scanning the room.

"Alright. At night, we were sleeping around, and the next thing you know, everyone is dying, but it wasn't an overdose. It was dark, and we could hear scratches by the door before screaming and then nothing. We turned on the lights and they were just dead. It seemed like an apparent overdose, but no one would believe us.

"I believe you. Will he come again?"

"Yeah. We were gonna move out in an hour."

"Mind if we come back here tonight after you move out?"

"Yeah, but don't tell the landlord."

"We'll leave now. Pretend this encounter never happened," Scully said.

"I'll meet you there. Give me a minute," Mulder said.

As soon as Scully left, he said, "Can I have some?"

"I could tell you used it yourself," he said. "You're a fed. I can just as much rat you out. Just leave now."

"But-"

"I'm not your dealer."

"Fine... but how did you know..."

"I could tell in your eyes, in your face. You're looking sick. Does your wife know?"

"My wife? No she's just my partner."

"Man, don't lead a life like us. You have a great career. Don't mess it up with her. I see the way you look at each other."

Mulder just nodded before leaving. He would secretly spend the night there in order to catch this monster.  
He was still severely craving another dosage and didn't know how he could manage.

"You look sick again," Scully told him as he got into the car.

"I'm fine," he snapped.

"You're having severe mood swings. I know you don't want this, but I don't think you're okay, you know. After everything. I'm going to ask Skinner."

"If you send me to the FBI psychologist, I will resign from my job," he said angrily. "Shut up!"

Scully looked like she wanted to cry. Mulder had never said such mean words before, but at the same time, she couldn't help but feel that pity and empathy for him.

"That's it! Tell me what's going on before I do make that happen!"

"So you're blackmailing me? Threatening me?"

"Mulder, you have some issues! You're coping mechanisms are shit and you haven't ever gotten any help all your life!"

"Don't tell me how to fucking live my life."

Mulder suddenly felt a sting on his right side of his face. Scully had slapped him! He didn't believe it!

He abruptly slammed on the brakes, pulling to the side of the road. "Get out."

"What?"

"Get out."

"No, Mulder. I'm sorry. Let's just talk this out."

"Talk what out?" HIs eyes were fuming with anger. An anger she had never seen before. She had heard he once flipped out on Duane Barry when she was  
abducted, and heard he looked just about ready to kill everyone. This was his aggression she had never seen before.

"GET OUT!" he screamed.

Scully did in fact get out, terrified. She knew who she was going to call.

Mulder drove off, making his way to his apartment.

AD Skinner sat in his office, in the middle of a meeting about budget costs. He hated it, and so hoped something would stop. He hated having to also explain Mulder's plane ticket costs. As if someone heard his thoughts, his secretary interrupted the meeting.

"AD Skinner, you have an urgent call."

Skinner got up and went to his phone.

"He did what? Alright." Skinner hung up the phone, then looked to the board. "I have to go."

Skinner hastily made his way to the garage and drove over to pick up Scully. She had made her way in a convenience store and waited for him.  
"I hope I didn't interrupt anything," she said. She looked up at Skinner, and she was crying.

"Tell me what happened."

"We were investigating an X-File, then all of a sudden I told him I was concerned for his health, he flipped out and said some harsh words." She fought to keep  
her tears back again. "Then I slapped him. I didn't mean to, but then he looked like he was going to murder someone, so I got out of the car when he told me to. I'm worried for him."  
"I am too."

"Where do you think he went?"

"We'll check his apartment."

"Mulder wouldn't do anything- harmful, or stupid right?" she asked Skinner.

"I hope not."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! What do you think is going to happen to our poor Mulder?!
> 
> story is still ongoing :)


	6. All We Know is Distance

Mulder arrived at his apartment. He knew Skinner and Scully would probably arrive there shortly, so he had to pack and go. He wasn't leaving far. He was smart enough to know not to return back to the apartment where the monster hid, as much as he wanted to. What if the monster was just some lonely soul like him? An addict that took pleasure from killing. He shook the thought off and packed his things. He only took some comfy clothes and sunflower seeds, although who needs food. Looking around, he managed to find his envelope blade still sitting out where he kept the alcohol and drugs on the table.

That's right. He forgot them this morning, and then he realized he didn't even any left. Everything was putting him in a shitty mood, and his bruise from Scully was hurting more than it should.

He aggressively threw everything in his trunk, before driving off. Looking into the rear view mirror, he thought he saw Skinner's car, so he drove the hell away from there. Who knew what the fuck was in his bloodstream now. He went to the gas station for more drugs, because to hell with it.

Entering the gas station, Mulder noticed his usual guy wasn't there. "Hey, where's the man who usually works here?"

"I didn't know him. Supposedly he got arrested on drug charges."

"What? I need to see him."

"Sorry."

Mulder sighed as he went back into his car. He needed something to distract his intrusive thoughts, which were once again coming back. I screwed up. I treated Scully terrible. She'll never forgive me. Yeah, but you're dying anyway. So be it. Ha!

Driving for another thirty minutes, his phone rang. He forgot he had his phone. Someone could be tracking him. He threw it out into a field before switching directions. He decided to drive down a random back road he had never done before. Alone time was so nice. Why couldn't everyone just leave him alone to do whatever he wanted?

He parked his car under some trees near a park, and turned off the headlights. Distraction. I need a distraction.

He looked around and what he brought. Alcohol was fine. No. It's not fine. Not at all. Every minute Mulder was shortening his life span greatly. Alcohol was another factor to give him pure bliss for a while, but the worst that could happen is he decided to drive. He wasn't that stupid. Drugs must've still been in his bloodstream.

He sighed and looked to the envelope knife. Don't be ridiculous. Cutting isn't going to solve your problems.

Regardless of his better judgement, Mulder reached over, and felt the cold blade on his skin. He didn't press the sharp side at all. Just enough to feel the cold across his skin. What if he did cut? What would happen. Surely one couldn't hurt. He turned the dim car light back on, and looked around again. Of course no one would be around. He threw out his phone, his car didn't have a tracker. He was free for now. 

"He's not here," Scully said as she opened Mulder's apartment with the key. The place was a complete mess. It almost looked like a storage closet.

"What happened?"

"It's definitely not an attack, sir. Look. It's just- well."

"We should look around."

"That's not legal."

"He gave me a key," Scully replied to Skinner. "I'm his partner, maybe even closer." She whispered the last part.

She mainly went to living room and saw the table looked bare. He never had the table bare so he obviously too something with him.

"Check the trash," she told Skinner as he wandered into the kitchen.

HIs eyes went wide. "Scully, you should come look at this."

"What is it?"

Scully had just the same expression on her face. What Skinner found was a ton of used needles in garbage disposal.

"Should we take it as evidence?"

"No! Wait... I don't know."

"He'll lose his job," Skinner sighed. "We can't just let this slide."

"I knew something was up with him. I should've checked sooner! I have an idea it might be heroin. We were investigating a case that dealt with some heroin addicts, and Mulder seemed interested more than usual."

"How long do you think this has been going on?"

"I'm assuming every since his mother committed suicide. Oh gosh." Scully still couldn't believe it. All the signs were there. The nausea, the withdrawal, looking thin and sick. He seemed almost euphoric sometimes. He was slowly killing himself.

"Mulder's not suicidal though," Skinner said.

"The drugs could cloud his judgement. Who knows what he'll do. Sir, he has contemplated suicide before. You remember, and he wasn't even on drugs."

Scully remembered back a few years ago when Mulder told her he sat alone after thinking his whole life was a lie. He remembered making sure his gun was loaded, even going as far to point it at his forehead, but a phone call happened to interrupt him and save his life.

Just thinking of losing Mulder was too much for her. It happened a lot, but it had never been this bad before.

"We need an APB on Mulder right away. Alert every law enforcement agency within the D.C. region. Something tells me he's not that far."

"Agent Scully. Do you realize what this will do? To you, to me, to Kersh, to the bureau? What am I supposed to say? Fox Mulder, a wanted FBI agent. May be armed and dangerous and a danger to himself."

"Sir, we have to hurry."

Skinner grudgingly complied. "I can't hide this drug evidence. He will be suspended, and possibly out of work."

"Mulder wouldn't put his career on the line that easily, unless..."

"Unless what?"

"Oh my god."

"He's going to kill himself."

"Let's not jump to conclusions."

"No, sir. You don't understand. That's the only logical explanation. He never would give up on the X-Files. Not unless he knew the inevitable end was near... just something terrible. It has never been easy for him. Sir, maybe I am wrong. Let's just hope Mulder is sitting in church. I need people to check every church, or park. I know Mulder likes going there, despite not being religious. He used to tell me at nights he would go and just think about his sister."

"I'll take my own car and go look for him, as well," Skinner said. "Call me right away if anything is found. We'll try to triangulate the last call to his cell phone."

They ignored the heroin for now, and locked his apartment before going their separate ways to find Mulder.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" His father had screamed when he saw his son sitting in the bathroom, his legs covered in blood from visible cuts on his thighs.

"Nothing," Fox had foolishly replied.

"Nothing! You look at me when I'm talking to you and don't fucking lie!"

"What did you do?"

"Nothing, Father!"

"Clearly you did something! See what a mess you made!"

"I'm sorry," teen Fox Mulder replied to his father.

"If you were sorry, you wouldn't have done this. What will your mother say when she comes to pick you up!"

Fox looked down at his hands, covered in blood. His father just stood there watching as he tried to clean it up with the small hand towel. As carefully as he could, he pressed against the blood with the damp dowel, the blood soaking into it fast. He felt the stinging of the cuts on his arms. He couldn't help but make a small gasp.

"I didn't raise a weak son!"

Fox fought back tears, but they just started pouring out, blurring his vision.

"Don't cry! Hurry up! Since when did you think this was a good idea? Now your mother is going to yell at me! See what I have to deal with because of you? I'm running late to a meeting."

Then leave, Fox felt like shouting but of course when it came to confronting his father, he became the most vulnerable. All of a sudden he didn't feel like he was strong and in control anymore. The bleeding eventually stopped, but that didn't mean that he still felt awful.

He looked up sheepishly at his father, showing a look that meant he tried his best. He then heard a knock.

"Your mother is here. Change out of your shirt. Put on a sweater. You look ridiculous." His father left him to answer the door, leaving Fox alone for a couple minutes.

He looked at himself in the mirror. As much as he believed it was it fault, and maybe it wasn't, he still would never make his father proud, or care about him.

Mulder sighed as he looked at his knife. You can't stop thinking about the past. Move on. He rolled up his sleeves. It had been so long, there were no scars visible anymore. You've been clean for so long. Don't break that streak. Yeah, but it'll distract me from my emotional pain. I'm going to do it.

Mulder wondered if the ghost of his parents were watching him, disapprovingly. I'm not weak.

Mulder didn't take any second thoughts, he sliced the knife horizontally once on his right wrist. Dammit. That stung like Hell. But it was a distraction to him, and he was okay with that.

Something looked wrong. Usually, the bleeding would stop after a little bit, and it was one cut. He didn't even go deep enough for the vein. Why was he bleeding like he was on Xarelto? Shit. Mulder you dumbass. You forgot about your brain disease. Fuck.

"Fuck," he cursed as he took off his his shirt, and pressed his arm to stop the bleeding. He could picture Scully screaming at him, and dragging his ass to a hospital.

"Help me, Scully," he whispered, taking a look at his situation. He was pathetic. What led him to this? He was still feeling the effects of the heroin, and on top of that, he hadn't forgotten about his 'incurable unnamed terminal brain disease" or whatever the doctor said. Fucking alien artifact. Fucking aliens. It's their fault. No, it's my biological father's fault.

The fact that the smoking man was his real father made him sick. Both his fathers were awful miserable men involved in government conspiracies. Well, fuck. What was he going to do now?

Just drive to your apartment, call Scully, and tell her everything. That's what you should do.

Mulder sighed. His shirt was now soaked, and he was feeling a bit light headed, but he shook it off. He just didn't like the sight of blood.

Starting the car, he started driving back to his apartment. "I'm sorry, Scully," he whispered out loud.

"Still no sign of him," Skinner reported to Scully. A few hours had passed, but somehow it felt like half her life. She had checked parking lots, churches, scanning everywhere for his car, but he was nowhere in sight. It was now getting darker, and harder to locate him.

She wasn't going to give up. By now, several other counties around the area were alerted. "I need a sign," Scully said as she felt her cross necklace. "Please, Mulder."

Scully parked at the top of another hill, and got out to look at the skyline. Each star was shining brightly and Scully wondered if Mulder was going to become one of them.

"I'm sorry, Mulder," Scully whispered out loud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think there will be a few more chapters this next week :) stay tuned!


	7. We're Close and Then We Run

Mulder headed back towards his apartment, when he noticed there seemed to be more police on the road. That was odd, but D.C. was full of crime. An uneasy feeling washed over him as a thought crossed his mind. What if they were looking for him?

No. That's ridiculous.

Driving through the city, Mulder realized one of the cars turned around to follow him, but tried to keep it casual. Doing a random U-turn on M street is not "random." It was dark, so he wondered how someone saw him.

What do I do? Mulder was still ten minutes away from his apartment. He remembered he threw his phone out, so he couldn't even call Scully. He decided to take a detour, but the cop was still slowly following him, definitely.

Scully, into her third hour was still driving around the same streets over and over, in a grid search with Skinner, when she got another call.

"Please say you have good news."

"We found him. He's heading northwest on M street towards Alexandria." We've got a couple following him. We're waiting until he gets to a quiet road to turn the sirens on."

"I'm heading there right now. I don't think he'll lead us on a chase."

"Mulder is unpredictable right now, and possibly not thinking straight."

Scully redirected her way to M street and sure enough, she saw the lights start flashing on this side street, so she followed.

Mulder saw the lights finally flash behind him. He couldn't go to jail! He somehow thought he would go to his apartment, tell Scully, and everything would be alright. It wasn't going to be alright. Fuck.

He had two options. Try to avoid them, or surrender. Time was running out. It was a stupid move to throw out his phone. He wished he could call Scully, but then he realized there was a small radio in the car. Please work.

He reached to it and set the frequency to the bureau one.

"Scully?" he asked.

"This is Officer Smith with the MPDC. Who is this?"

"I'm Agent Fox Mulder, with the FBI. I need to talk to Agent Scully.

A minute of silence before he replied, "We need you to pull over."

"Let me talk to Scully first."

"Mulder!"

"Scully," Mulder said as his voice cracked.

"You need to pull over."

"Please tell me you didn't go to my apartment..."

"Mulder, we don't want you for the drugs."

"Then why is the whole capital looking for me?"

"Mulder, just pull over so we can talk."

"Are you going to send me to the hospital?" The line was silent. "Scully, I have something to tell you, but they're listening so I need to just talk to you. I fucked up."

"Mulder, don't say that."

"I failed, Scully."

"Failed what?"

"I failed to- to keep you," he said, instantly breaking down into tears. He looked at himself in the mirror. You're sick, Mulder. Physically and mentally. Know the signs. He looked to his wrist again which was losing a lot of blood, the shirt still soaked.

"I don't know if I have much time left..."

"Mulder!"

Scully had Skinner on the other line, and told Skinner for everyone to back off. Mulder would pull over, but talk to Scully first.

"Ok, Mulder. Listen carefully. Pull over, and I'll just come to know."

Mulder trusted her. It was time to trust her. "Ok."

Mulder pulled over to the side, and as if he was some car chase suspect, about a hundred feet away, several police cars blocked the road. Mulder looked around for Scully, and saw her get out of her car. A few guns were drawn at Mulder.

"Scully, tell them to put down their guns!" He yelled, stepping out of the car.

"Mulder, slide your gun over here!"

Mulder was confused. He didn't do anything to anyone. "I didn't do anything!"

"Mulder, are you hurt?" Scully ran to him, ignoring the other cops telling her not to. She was crying as he she took note of his arm and everything else about him. "Mulder, you didn't try to k--kill yourself?" She said that in almost a whisper.

"No, I would never," he said.

"Mulder, what's going on?"

"Why is everyone pointing their gun at me?"

"Give me your gun," Scully said.

"No!"

"No?"

"Scully, I didn't do anything. What's going on?"

"Mulder, you went missing... you stormed off, it was precaution. You might be a danger to yourself, or others. You aren't thinking well."

"You believe that?" Mulder asked, but this time he wasn't angry. He just seemed too depressed.

"No, but I don't want them shooting, or restraining you. I know you don't like that."

"So where do we go from here?" Mulder asked, as he surrendered his gun to Scully. He started to feel very weak.

"Scully, I have to tell you something," he said. "But alone... Can we just go back to my apartment?"

"You can't just run away this time," Scully responded. "It won't be that simple."

"No, you don't understand."

"I know you're hurting, and I could never know, but we'll get through this."

"No. It's not going to be okay," he said, and slumped agains the side of the car, Scully bending down to him.

"Scully, I- I did something bad. I can't..." 

Scully finally unwrapped the shirt around his wrist and saw a single cut, yet it was bleeding nonstop.

"When did you do this?"

"Um, half an hour ago."

"Mulder, this should've clotted a while ago. We need to take you to a doctor regardless."

"No, just let me- be with you. Only you," he said before getting back up. He looked to the confused and worried agents all around him, including Skinner.

"Mulder, we won't tell about the drugs, but they might be found in your system."

"Just let me go home," he kept repeating.

Scully was pressing the cut again, and growing extremely worried. She knew he didn't have a bleeding disorder, but all the drugs in his system could've done something. "We might need some Narcan..."

"Scully, please." Mulder stood up, and felt another wave of dizziness take over him. He grabbed onto Scully for support. He definitely felt very weak, and as soon as he leaned on her, she couldn't hold him up, as she slowly let him down, Skinner also running up.

"Call an ambulance," Skinner stated, taking a look at Mulder.

"But not for me," he said, still slipping in his humor at a time like this. He gave a very subtle smile.

"Mulder..."

"Scully, I have to tell you," he said as he felt the blackout coming. What if he never woke up?

He reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly. "I'm going to die."

"No, you aren't," she said. "Stay with me."

"I love you."

Mulder's eyes slowly closed as everyone swarmed the scene, but the last thing Mulder focused on was Scully's beautiful eyes. If that was the last thing he got lost in, he didn't mind. At least he could go, happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still ongoing!!!!! Honestly, i kinda pre-planned this story wrong, and weirdly, so I think there will be only three chapters left, although ihave sort of a filler chapter, im not sure whether to place it next or at the end


	8. Kiss Away the Difference

Somehow, Mulder was sitting on a beach, an empty beach during sunset. He looked around. There was a blanket, a pizza box and some beer laid upon it, and scattered around were flower petals. He was expecting someone. He must've planned this. He looked down into his hand, and found himself holding box, holding an engagement ring.

As if he was randomly placed in a dream world, Mulder had to become aware of his surroundings. Everything was too placid, empty and call to be real.

He was certain he was there to propose to Scully. Don't mess it up. He grabbed a big shell, and put the ring inside, laying it out near the water met the sand, just so he could keep his eye on the shell.

Looking around, it seemed like endless flat terrain, and he was alone. Where was Scully? He kept circling around, and then he felt a soft breeze around his left shoulder. He turned around, to find Scully standing there. She was absolutely breathtakingly beautiful, dressed in an all white dress.

"You're beautiful," he managed to say to her giving her long one big kiss, and embracing her in a hug.

"You're just as handsome," she replied looking up and down at him. Mulder looked down and realized he was wearing a tuxedo.

"I have pizza," he said motioning to the picnic set up.

"Interseting food choice," she teased as they sat down to eat.

"If I had my radio, I would've played Cher," Mulder thought.

"Cher is fun."

"You heard me?" Mulder thought he was only thinking. Strange laws of the dreamworld were hard to grasp on.

It felt like a utopia to him. Too much bliss to be good. Something like that had a cost and he was about to find out.

"Scully, let's go seashell hunting," he told her, pointing to the sea.

"I knew you would want to," she said. "I saw you eyeing that shell for the past half hour."

Mulder smiled. "I'll tell you what, I'll go get it and bring it back here. Just relax." He jogged to the shell, and looked back to Scully who was smiling. He realized the shell stretched out further than the water line, so he looked down, and took off his shoes and threw them back. The shell seemed to be so close, but so far. The water started rising slowly, and he managed to grasp the shell. The ring was gone. He panicked. For sure he thought he had put it in there.

Spinning back around, he found himself on the endless plane of the sand, the sky almost fading into white now. He saw Scully look around for him.

He started to run back to her, but found himself sinking, grasping for her hand. "Scully!" he called out.

"Mulder?! Where are you?"

"I'm right here! Scully! Dana!" He called out but the water engulfed him. He tried to fight it, but he felt himself able to breathe. He let his body become limp, and slowly sink to the bottom of the ocean. He didn't know why; it just happened.

The sensation and feeling was calming, almost too much. He opened his eyes again, to find himself completely dry. He was looking up at the stars, but where?

Sitting up, he realized he was now at the field where he played taught Scully how to play baseball that one night. He had his favorite Grays jersey on but again, past the walls, was an endless dark void.

"Scully? What's going on?" He said out loud, looking around. He heard the sound of footsteps and turned to see Scully walking up to him, but she had a sadness in her eyes.

"Scully?"

"Oh, Mulder," she muttered walking to the homeplate where he was, still ignoring her.

"Scully, talk to me."

Mulder walked over to her, and reached for her hand, only to realize it went through. What? He tried hugging her, and his whole body just went through her.

"Scully? Am I dead? What's happening?"

"Oh, Mulder," she said picking up a loose baseball on the ground. "I wish you were here."

"I am," he replied, but decided to shut up. It was useless. She couldn't hear him.

"She held her necklace, and then threw the ball as far as she could. She had a great throw. He smiled to himself, imaging more scenarios already in his head.

"Mulder, I can just imagine us, playing again. Just anything to have you back. Hell, I'd even go trekking for Sasquatch in Washington State. Why did you leave us?"

I need more information. Go on.

"If you had just told me you were dying sooner, we could've done something about it. Maybe it's my fault. I should've payed attention to the signs."

It's never your fault, Scully. It's all mine.

"We waited for you to wake up, but your will stated we pull the plug, as much as I didn't want to."

Fuck. I should've changed the will.

"I need you. I'd do anything to have you back. I miss you, Mulder. I hope you know that. I know you're one of the stars up there, watching down upon me. You're with your family again... I'm sure you're back in your living room, playing Stratego with your sister, as if that day had never happened. Parallel universes are interesting. I wonder if in another, you never got sick, or maybe we're Rob and Laura from Arcadia." Scully smiled, thinking back to that time.

She picked up another baseball and threw it again, making Mulder smile again. Her form was great.

"Now, everyday, when I pass the cemetery, I visit you. It's just a habit. I can't let you go. You're there, along with the rest of your family." Scully was tearing up now.

"Sometimes, I see you in my dreams. They seem too real. You said dreams are answers to questions we haven't felt figured out. I feel like you're sending me a message from Heaven, whether you believe it or not."

Mulder out of habit, went to wipe her tears, and he felt her. His hands didn't go through this time, but she still couldn't see him.

"Mulder, I have to let you go now. I figured coming here would be the way."

"So I'm dead?" He asked her.

"You're gone," she whispered. "Come back. Hold on, for me." As she walked off, Mulder ran after her again, only to find himself slipping on the edge of the world. He fell back, and again, the black void took him in.

Time was a universal invariant. Time was also hard to keep track of in someone's mind, after a long period. Mulder woke up to find himself in an all too familiar place; the hospital. Was he still in some dream-like limbo, or was this the real world. He remembered everything vividly... but only now came to realize that was not accurate.

He felt okay. But maybe that's because he was not moving. It all came back to him, and he remembered Scully's concerned eyes. He guessed he didn't die after all, but he was damn close.

He looked around, to find Scully asleep in the seat next to him. He lay there in silence for a while, debating to call out or just wait for her to wake up. Finally, he spoke up. "Scully?" He repeated her name a few times raising his voice each time, until finally she abruptly perked her head up and looked at him.

"Mulder, don't do that," she said, leaning over him and took his hand.

"Do what?"

"Scare me. You've done it many times, but this- I don't know, Mulder. I always knew you were hurting, but never this much." She bit her lip, to keep another wave of tears back. "I shouldn't have slapped you. Your bruising is really bad."

"It's my fault, always. I didn't need to kick you out. I ruined and destroyed myself. You never did. You were the only reason I didn't take an extra dosage and end it all, or put a bullet through my head. I didn't give up for you, but it seems like now I did, huh?"

"No, Mulder. "You, nor me did anything wrong. It was inevitable..."

Mulder remembered his dream on the baseball field, when Scully said that learning sooner would've been better. "Scully, did they tell you-"

"Yes, Mulder."

"But, if you knew sooner..."

"It was inevitable," she said, and the tears streamed down again.

Mulder still wiped away her tears, and squeezed her hand in reassurance. "I'm sorry," he repeated. He had never been more sorry.

Looking around him, he opened his mouth to ask the question he had always avoided to ask. "Scully..." he couldn't get himself to ask the rest. He knew Scully knew what he was talking about.

"At most... two weeks."

"Oh god," Mulder said, his voice breaking, as he cried harder than Scully, holding her tightly. "What happened after..."

"Do you really want to know?"

"Tell me."

"You collapsed, and your heart stopped. Thankfully, someone had Narcan with them, and it saved your life. You should've woken up right away, but something was wrong with your bleeding. We rushed you here, and they drew some blood, took scans, did tests. We had to look through any recent medical records and we found out about-" she stopped mid-sentence, changing the subject. "I just need you. Don't leave me when I need you the most."

"Can I leave the hospital?" He asked.

"All charges were dropped. Skinner said just live the rest of your life, with me."

"Scully, what if the doctors are wrong. Maybe this will magically go away, like when you has cancer."

"As much as I want to believe that, and I pray to god everyday for a miracle, the chances are looking slim."

"I guess I'll have to spend the last two weeks of my life with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ongoing.... two more chapters!!!!!! yikes!!!! 
> 
> but i think you know what might happen


	9. I Know You Hate This One

Does anyone every think about what they're going to do with limited time? At the end of the day, it comes down to whether someone is alone or not. If they want to make amends, undo and wrongs done.

Religious or not, we always hear about what comes in the afterlife. Reincarnation all the way to Heaven and Hell. Mulder never had any faith, so where did that place him? Would he even become a soul floating among the starlight with everyone else? Was that Heaven?

Sometimes Mulder wondered if he was instead going to Hell. He had another dream similar to the baseball field one. He was sitting in his apartment, holding a present. Everything coming back, it was Christmas, right after the haunted house experience.

He remembered Scully was going to come to his apartment. Instead of a knock, he saw the door nob turn, and Scully walked in, carrying a present.

"Glad you could come, Scully," Mulder said going for a hug, but again realizing he was invisible and she couldn't feel him. No. This isn't happening again! 

Scully walked over to the couch and placed the gift on the table. Leaning back, she closed her eyes and looked outside to the snowfall. If anytime was needed, he needed his mind-reading powers back. To know what she was so sadly thinking.

He went over to sit on the couch with her, but as he approached, the whole place fell and he was left standing once again on an empty plane somewhere in the universe, but this time it was snow, and very cold.

"Ahh!" Mulder shot straight up out of bed and turned the lamp on. He was covered in sweat and tears, shaking visibly to Scully.

Right away she hugged him. "Another nightmare?"

He nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Scully, am I going to Hell?"

"No."

"How would you know? You're not God."

"What makes you say that?"

"I'm dying anyway. Might as well tell you everything, including the time I locked Spender in the bathroom." He laughed quietly, the tears still on his face. Classic Mulder move. Scully reached over and wiped his tears with her fingers. She hated seeing Mulder sad but they both couldn't ignore what was going on. It was impossible.

"That was you?"

"He pulled my chair when I tried to sit," he replied. "Scully, I feel like I'm going to Hell. I've been having these dreams lately, and I don't know whether or not the Cancer Man is behind this, but in the dreams, I relive our best moments together, like playing baseball or opening Christmas gifts. There's a catch. It's as if on those events, I was dead, and you were sad and alone. It hurt to see you heartbroken Scully."

Mulder buried his face in her chest again. "I was watching you, almost like a guardian angel but it felt devastating. Like between Heaven and Hell. It was my worst nightmare. I know this because, I fear that you'll never get over my death and move on. Scully, it took me more than thirty years to accept my sister's death."

"Oh, Mulder. You're with me right now, in the moment. That's all that matters."

"If I had never chased aliens, I don't think this would've happened. I'd rather quite the bureau and stay alive with you if I could re-do everything."

"Dont fret over the past. Just hold me." WIth that, they spent the rest of the morning cuddling each other until it was finally ten and time to get up.

"What should we do, now?" Mulder asked. Breaking habit seemed odd. He should be at the basement right now, just working on a normal case. Everything was getting unbearable. Scully had removed all the heroin with the help of Skinner. That didn't stop his craving. He still felt dependent, but everytime he thought of it, Scully changed his thoughts somewhere else.

His mind was like a loading computer. Sometimes certain documents had to be uploaded in a certain amount of time. Every function is running back and forth to the places it needs to get to, but sometimes, it never makes it on time. All the things that needed to be done, never will, or never were.

Mulder knew he didn't have time to do everything he wanted with Scully. He wanted to show her the world, maybe fly in a private helicopter over New York with her. But as she said, they needed to live in the moment, and so far he was still there.

He wanted to prove the doctors wrong, but that wasn't going to happen. Mulder didn't tell Scully how awful he felt, because it was all about making her feel happy.

"I'm going down the street to get us breakfast. I'll be back in five minutes. If I'm not, come find me."

"Why can't I go with you?"

"I want it to be a surprise."

"Alright..." She kissed him, and he got up, putting some sweatpants and a t-shirt on before heading out.

It was simple. He made his way to the convenience store and bakery, and no one was there so he went right up front. 

"Mulder, it's been a while since I've seen you! What can I get?" the friendly man asked.

"Two bagels, with extra cream cheese," he smiled.

"I can tell you're in love," he said. "Your partner?"

Mulder smiled even wider. He must be blushing because Scully was always on his mind. He nodded.

"Have fun!"

Mulder smiled before heading back to the apartment where Scully was still waiting in bed. He crawled back in and showed the bag to her.

"I was thinking of everything wrong I did, I know- don't start, but that one time we were investigating the vampire kid, I randomly remembered how it made you unhappy if you only had half a light cream cheese bagel. So I brought you what would make you happy."

He opened the bag and handed the bagel to her.

"Mulder! You're truly the best." She hugged him again, before they ate their bagels together.

"Scully, you're getting crumbs everywhere!" he brushed them on the floor! "But I honestly don't mind."

They finished eating and kissed some more, passionately.

"Gosh Scully, we should've done this sooner! Before I was dying."

"Oh, Mulder. I'm sorry too, just for everything I've ever done."

"I told you before, you never owe me anything."

"Let's just clean the office out, today," Mulder said.

"No, for once don't worry about work. Just be with me."

"Alright, Scully. I won't leave you."

A week passed and now any second, Mulder didn't know how much longer he had. He tried to be strong in front of Scully, and every spare second he had alone, he would cry. She wouldn't only lose him, but he might lose her.

He knew he was becoming incredibly week. Sometimes at night when Scully fell asleep before him, he would keep the TV on a low volume, not wanting to fall asleep. He feared he might never wake up, and that would be too much for Scully. His time was running out.

What night was going to be last? Who knew. Mulder would do anything. He wanted to visit hills in Idaho to watch planes again, he wanted to time travel to the Bermuda and dance with his beautiful girl or kiss at the new year.

What's the most romantic thing Mulder could do? It wasn't playing baseball, or looking at the stars with her, although that was still great. The most romantic thing he could do now, was give Scully all his attention for the rest of his life.

Each morning, Mulder made it a habit to go get Scully bagels. One morning, as Mulder was walking back through the hallway, he felt his heart rate getting faster and faster. It was beating hard and he could fell it through his neck, chest and hands. Was it a panic attack? A heart attack? Mulder was freaking out so he busted through the door, placing the bag down before running to Scully. He didn't have to say anything to know Scully was on to him.

"Your heart rate is really fast. Was it sudden?"

Mulder nodded, and cried. He was scared. He was really scared, but Scully's touch reassured him.

"We have to get to the hospital! There's no time for an ambulance.

Scully quickly threw on pants and Mulder's sweatshirt which was lying around and helped him to the car. She sped through the streets, definitely breaking traffic laws, but this might be an emergency.

"Mulder? Are you still there?"

He mumbled and she felt his pulse.

"Dammit! Move!" she yelled to no one in particular. She drove all the way up to the ER where the ambulances go, and helped Mulder get up. He was half conscious.

"Ma'am, this is for emergency med-"

"I'm a medical doctor with the FBI! I'm Agent Dana Scully and this is my partner Fox Mulder! He needs immediate medical attention! Sudden tachycardia!"

They hesitated but finally brought him in, and right away started giving him oxygen.

"What's going on?"

"He was... he has some undiagnosable brain disease. He was just here a week ago. I don't know if he has long..." Scully was praying this wasn't her last moments with him.

"Any drugs in his system?"

"He wasn't taking any medication, but it's comlicated. We don't-

Scully didn't have time to explain because suddenly all the monitors beeped.

"He's going into v-fib," one of the nurses said. The Right away another nurse took the defibrillator. "Charging!"

"Wait!" Scully screamed. "Wait, wait! Put him in protective hypothermia!" Mulder was flatlining now. He could die yet. Not on her.

"Freeze? His heart isn't beating."

"His heart's already damaged. If you restart it, it'll keep racing, shoot off free radicals, and kill his brain. We ice him down, put him on bypass..."

"But there's nothing to diagnose... you said his brain was already failing. He was going to succumb anyway..."

"Please! I'm his only family! I can make decisions! Get me cold saline!" Scully felt his neck, for any pulse. "Now!"

The nurses agreed and started him on that.

"This just is stalling time," the doctor had said.

"As long as he can stay alive, he's going to stay alive."

Scully walked into the room where he was unconscious but stable. "Cool temperature down to ninety. Bypass circulating."

Scully sat down next to him, another doctor joining her. "I'm Dr. Wilson. The trauma must have stimulated a pre-existing heart condition. Autoimmune congenital anomaly, blood clotting disorder, lead poisoning..."

"Well, we are running out of time. Get the dialysis right now!"

"Can you just tell me how he got this disease?"

"We don't know the origin..."

"Maybe you're too emotional right now to make medical judgements, Mrs. Mulder," he said to her. She didn't correct him.

"I'm not."

"I'll be back when the reports come back." He got up to leave Scully alone. Once again, she sat next to him, not knowing if he would wake up. She usually had a feeling when he was going to make it, but something told her, this time might be different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter. Grab your tissues


	10. But This is Where the Story Ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my medical knowledge is from sloppy research and House M.D. I’m no professional, but I do try. This is the last chapter. I hope you enjoy my writing. I’m only 14.

Mulder was still unconscious, with Scully holding his cold hand when the doctor came back.

"I'm sorry. Whatever pre-existing issues he had, he has developed a multi-system organ failure, including liver and more neurological damage. I'm his already weak condition, his liver started failing first."

"What about a heart transplant?" Scully asked, but she was a doctor. She knew the answer.

"He doesn't qualify for a heart transplant. I'm so sorry. His organs are all damaged and he's too weak for anything now."

"No!" Scully screamed.

"We can take him off the anesthesia to wake him up, but nothing more can be done. I'll leave you alone." The doctor sadly walked out of the room, feeling sad for Scully. He could tell they had a strong connection.

"Scully unhooked the first machine, and Mulder's eyes slowly opened, but this time, he didn't make any jokes, he didn't smile. He knew what was going to happen.

"Mulder. I love you."

"I love you too, Dana," he whispered. "What's going on?"

She didn't reply. She hugged him tighter, and he took note around him at the machines, and how Scully was alone with him. Usually she would be calling in the doctors as soon as he woke up. This wasn't good news.

"Mulder. Fox... They- they can't save you. I can't save you." She was barely audible but enough for Mulder to know what she meant. She buried her head on his chest, instantly getting then on him, but nothing mattered anymore except them. "I tried everything. I bought you time... but now it's gone."

"Any minute?" He asked quietly. "How bad?"

She didn't even nod. The new wave of tears answered her question.

"Scully..."

"It's my fault. I'm sorry," Mulder said, stroking her hair. 

"No. Just don't say that now. It was inevitable. I don't know what to say. Skinner and the Lone Gunman are coming. They're the only ones I called."

Every second passing, Mulder's heart rate was ever so slightly going down. Not yet... not yet...

In a few minutes, Skinner and the gunman arrived. No jokes this time. No laughs. They were all crying. No one really thought they would cry for Mulder or have to see him die like this, but I was happening.

"We'll miss you," Langley said, the others nodding. "See you later."

"Love you all too." They went over to embrace Mulder in a very tight hug, before leaving him for the last time. Too many tears were shed, but it wasn't nearly as heartbreaking of the thought of losing Scully."

Next Skinner came to him. "You're still gonna hug me, boss?" Mulder managed to joke.

"Mulder. You're always going to be my best agent." He gave a quick embrace before saluting him and leaving. He didn't have time for paragraphs of a speech. Sometimes brief messages were the strongest.

Mulder felt everything getting slower... slowing down. He still managed to wipe away her tears as they kept falling. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her real long before slowly retracting. "Scully. I think it's time."

"No. Fight for me," she barely whispered, as she could barely get any words out.

"Don't worry. I'll see you soon enough. Stay strong for me. Don't let me go. Keep me in your memory, but don't dwell on me too much. I don't need you suffering. Just remember, when you look into the sky, and see a shooting star, or a star that twinkles brighter than the rest, that'll be me, taking care of you."

Every word was hurting her more and more, and she let out loud sobs. "Keep your eyes open."

"I'll love you forever and always. Don't you forget that; you're my one in five billion."

"Nothings going to be okay," she screamed.

"It will be."

"No, it's not!" She hugged him tighter. "Why do you say that?"

"I want to believe. You do too. Believe everything will be okay, and it will be. My home is in your heart, in your soul. It always has been, since day one. I want our last thoughts together to be positively memorable."

Scully looked over to the machine. She couldn't just keep him forever in a coma. She had to let him go, but didn't want to press the button. Not yet.

"Love you." His words drifted as he said it and smiled before his eyes started to close. He made sure the last thing he saw was her beautiful eyes. He always could get lost in them, anytime.

"Always," Scully replied. She kissed his forehead before looking at the monitors. It was time. She turned off the alarms and sounds, and pressed the dreaded button that read "OFF." She couldn't hold onto him longer. He would be pain-free now, and that's always what he wanted. She felt him squeeze her hand for one last time, and then everything stopped, and the only sound heard in the entire world, were her sobs. 

Somewhere in the sky, a star suddenly became brighter, and shot across the universe. Many people saw the shooting star, some significantly enough to remember that for the rest of their life. Scully didn’t always need to see the stars, to know Mulder was always with her. She could feel his soul traveling around, whether it through ancient starlight or in her heart.

Everyone says that when you die, you're in a better place. If it's a better place, then why doesn't everyone just die? Maybe it's only a better place if someone didn't live a fulfilling life, but Mulder had a meaningful life, whether he believed it or not. She was his reason to keep going on, and that was more than enough.

It's an interesting mindset when you know you're going to die. If someone knows a certain end date then would they know to stop trying? You're dying. Why do things you hate. Why waste time? Did you bring more light or darkness into yours or someone else's life?

In life, no one solves anything with feelings, or maybe that's what they want you to believe, especially finding the truth. Feelings made people vulnerable, emotional, and sometimes weak, but also just as strong. Nothing wrong ever with that. If miracles happened, those were tied to emotions. Find out as much as you can. Everyone around will see you go. They'll move on. Besides some name etched in stone and a few photographs, what is there to remember of you?

No one truly dies if they meant something. Even if it only one person, that's still enough to keep a memory.

Every story has chapters, whether we like them or not. Some stories end and Mulder's did, but what they don't say, is just because the story ends, it doesn't mean you can't start a new book in the series. Scully had half her life still ahead of her. Closing her book with Mulder was what happened, but it was definitely not going to be shelved and forgotten, covered in dust. Eventually the series would cease to exist, but this is where the story ends (for now).

THE END.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You read my entire story! I love you! I’d love any comments here or you can DM me on my IG: the_sixth_redux
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me on this one!


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